Within the Shelter of the Night
by Elina
Summary: [CONCLUDED] A sequel to Masquerade [Greg piece all the way: What is wrong with him??]
1. Within the Shelter of the Night

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Thank You: Melindotty (I hope I got it right cuz I don't have the Masquerade's review page open right now). You were right; it didn't go away. Thanks for encouraging me to follow my little imagination faery. ("What's that?" you say. Well, it's that little, weird thingy that keeps flying around my head saying "Write this, write that... Oh, no, not _that_...") 

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Dedication: This piece is dedicated to Steve 0yervidez, who doesn't even know me. Weird, now is it? *g* Why am I dedicating this to him? Because his Cupid fanfiction (go read it if you know what's good for you) is amazing and constantly urging me to try harder and be creative. His writing inspires me. Thank you, Steven, where ever you are. I doubt that you'll ever read this but... _FINISH THE SERIES!!!_ Okay, I'm done here...

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Within the Shelter of the Night...

They had all noticed it by now. The stiffing silence that filled the corridors, wrapped around the paused air hanging above the shoulders of the people wandering along the halls. To anyone who came to the building, anyone who was oblivious to the normal behavior, the normal routine of the lab, everything seemed normal. But the people living their everyday lives in that place, marching along the hard white hallways, and doing their best to proceed the evidence that flowed by them one after the other knew better than that. They couldn't quite put their finger on it but something had changed. Something in the atmosphere, in the air that wasn't missed by anyone. Something was out of place in the CSI lab of Las Vegas Police Department, and everybody could sense it.

The silence.

The days flowed by as usual, hour after an hour, day after a day, week after a week, constantly changing and not changing at all, but still passing. But the sudden, creeping silence had moved in, accommodated the space and made its nest into the heart of the lab. It seemed to have moved in for good. No matter how hard she tried, Sara couldn't shake that thought out of her head as she now strode towards the locker rooms in one of the many corridors of the lab. No one talked about it. No one mentioned it or wondered what it was all about, so she wasn't really even sure if she was only imagining it. At that moment, though, it felt very much alive, filling the air with suffocating toxic waste of emptiness, penetrating into her lungs and her mind. She felt a sudden shiver going down her spine as she thought about it. She had to stop, she decided. Imagination, that's what it was. Nothing, she told herself, nothing has changed. 

Everything was just as usual. 

Then she heard it. Something that broke through the cloak of silence. A muffled sound, as if someone was speaking behind a closed door. Even though she couldn't make out the words, the tone of the voice was clear in her ears. It sounded restrained, cautious. She stopped dead on her tracks, becoming curious. She listened for awhile, trying to figure out where it was coming from. Her brow wrinkled up as she realized where the sound was coming from; Ecklie's empty office.

Slowly, she softly stepped closer to the closed door a couple of feet away from her. Without even realizing it, her body leaned forward, her ears pressed closer to the door, almost touching its cold hard surface as she tried to listen. 

As if sensing that someone was listening, the voice stopped speaking. Eagerly, Sara waited for another sound, anything at all - a foot step, a grunt, a breath. But, for some time, the only audible sound bouncing from the white walls was the sound of her own breathing cutting the air. 

Maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe this silence, the everlasting silence that somehow had warped around all of them, had finally got through to her, making her so desperate of any kind of human _sound_ that she was actually starting to hear things. 

She was just about to reach for the door knob and take a peek inside as the sudden, angry exclaim made her jump. Her hand was left hanging in the air half way between her side and the door. Just barely, she understood what the voice had said. _There's got to be something!_ The voice of the man behind the closed door, even though muffled, sounded familiar in her ears but she still couldn't quite recognize it. His frustrated sound pierced through her thoughts once again before she could think about it further. This time his tone was calmer, but only barely. _I don't understand this. You said..._

A long silence followed his words, leaving Sara to hold her breath. The frantic, almost desperate moan she heard through the door made her lean even closer, now fully pressing her ear against it. _You said it was better. _ She wondered who the man was. It wasn't Ecklie, she knew it. She would've recognized his voice anywhere. It was someone else. No other voices were heard, just him, so she figured he must be talking on the phone. How had he gotten in there? _No, I'm sorry. It just that... No, I understand. It's not your... This all is just very..._ His voice trailed off, as if at a loss for words. The tone had changed again, to softer this time, quieter, and she had to pinch to hear it through the door. _Yes, thank you. _

Suddenly she realized how stupid she was being. How stupid she must look standing, _crouching_ there with her ear against the brown door. Her body darted up. What was she thinking? Eavesdropping like a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl. She felt the red heat rise up her neck as she glanced around warily, cautious if someone had seen her. 

Just then the door flew open. 

She blinked, not noticing to move as she was set face to face with a pair of brown eyes staring at her, wide and a bit startled. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to form the words to this woman who suddenly was just... _there_, obviously not going to move anytime soon. "Hi," he finally managed to mouth.

That one sound snapped Sara back from confusion. "Um... Hi, Greg..." All of a sudden feeling a bit nervous and stupid, she gave a little wave with her hand, gesturing at the air around her. "I was just... passing, and I heard someone..."

Greg's eyes glanced at the half open doorway behind him. He seemed a bit embarrassed to been caught red handed. "I would appreciate if you wouldn't -- if you wouldn't mention this to Ecklie. He'd get the wrong idea and all..." 

"Sure," Sara mouthed, nodding still a bit bewildered. 

With that, without any further explanations, he just nodded his wordless thank you and pushed by her, leaving her standing there in the doorway. As his footsteps stopped echoing in the air, disappearing behind the corner, the hallway was wrapped with silence once more.

It took a couple of second for Sara to gather her thoughts. Her face turned to look at the now empty space at the direction of where Greg had left, only to find him long gone. Her brow was in a thoughtful furrow. And all the words that she'd heard through the door wouldn't stop ringing in her ears. 

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A/N: I didn't dare to read it once I'd written it, I just needed to get it done and over with, so I here it just _is_. Maybe a little later.... A some kind of an sequel is forming in my mind, let's see... Oh, *takes a peek at her 'Stories' folder* so many unfinished stories, so little time... Damn, I should stop doing this...


	2. Doubts of the Clueless

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A/N: Thank you all for the feedback! Here it is, then; the second chapter. Anywayzzz, enough with the babble. Yes.

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Disclaimer: All rights for the song here goes to its rightful owner. That is LIVE.

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Within the Shelter of the Night: Doubts of the Clueless

The radio was on. The subtle sound of a smooth rock ballad filled the break room with a silent rhythm. The volume was low, only barely hearable as it sounded from the radio on the counter. 

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Everybody has a ghost

Everybody has a ghost who sings like you do 

Yours is not like mine

But it's alright, keep it up

Nick Stokes let the lyrics flow by his acknowledgement, not really listening to the words nor the music as he browsed through the newspaper, now and then taking a sip from his coffee. He didn't know who had brought the radio into the break room. It hadn't been there before but at least it brought some _living_ into the place. The lab had been like a morgue lately, no pun intended. He didn't know what it was, but sometimes it freaked him out. He couldn't remember the last time the place had felt so... empty. 

__

Boy looses rib in New Orleans

He can't help eyeing up the whores

under the bridge

Boy looses rib and lets a hellified cry...

Nick sent a little glare towards the black box sitting on the counter. Talking about mood lightening. With a sigh and a shake of his head he turned back to the paper laying on the table in front of him. 

Behind him, the door swung open as Sara marched in, walking straight to the coffee pot. "Morning," Nick greeted as he glanced up from the paper. 

Her brown hair flew in the air over her shoulder as she jerked her head to look at him. "It's five a.m.," she stated matter-of-factly. 

He shrugged. "As I said, morning." His gaze was already focused back on the paper, reading even when he spoke. 

Sara didn't answer him as she grabbed herself a mug from the counter and poured it full of coffee. It was then that she paid attention to the silent music dancing in the air. She glanced at the radio with a frown. Her face was a question mark. "Where did that come from?" her voice broke through Nick's thoughts. He lifted his eyes at her. 

"You tell me. Santa Claus?"

"Seriously, Nick. Think about --" Sara told him as she moved to the chair opposite to Nick. Her eyes stayed on the radio as she did so. All of a sudden she fell silent, not finishing what ever it was that she was going to say. Her face took a thinking expression. 

It was Nick's time to frown. "What?"

Her eyes darted to him as her mind snapped back to present. "Oh, what?" Her hand gave a little wave in the air, belittling, as she remembered what they were talking about. "Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. It's just that..." Her voice trailed off as her gaze locked back to the radio. 

The song had ended and a chirpy morning host started to blabber. "Listen," Sara spoke after a pause. As her eyes turned to Nick, their look was serious. Her tone was soft. "Do you think everything is okay with Greg?"

Her words took him by surprise. They seemed so out of place there in that small room, hanging in the air between them. He shifted on his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. He didn't know how to respond so he just mouthed: "What do you mean?"

"Just that..." Her fingers wrapped around the mug, her eyes cast down at the table as she continued. "I saw him earlier and he seemed a bit... I don't know. He was on the phone, and it was a bit weird. What he said. There was something that bothered me about it, and when I started thinking about, well, you know, what this place has been like lately, I just realized --"

"Whoa, Sara, slow down a bit," Nick cut in. "What are you talking about?"

Her head jerked up, her eyes leveled with his. For once, Nick could see genuine concern in her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was steady. "Nick, when was the last time you heard him play music?"

With his brow furrowed Nick leant back in the chair, thinking. He honestly couldn't remember.

***

The next night both Nick and Sara stared over the table at the form of the young lab tech. Apparently, Greg didn't notice as he just continued listening to Grissom as he went on about the latest case. They watched him, searching for something within the surface, but still not quite finding what they were looking for. 

He was tired. Everyone could see that. The exhaustion that glowed from him was clearly visible, the dark circles that outlined his eyes weren't left unnoticed by anyone, but that wasn't it. Sara and Nick both knew that there were something else to it than just that. 

He smiled. He joked. But the smile didn't reach his eyes, the smile left his eyes dull and sparkless. His jokes were only half-hearted, as if he was only bothered to make a joke because it was expected. Even now, as he replied to Grissom with a snide comment, he was holding back. Nick and Sara glanced at each other. 

By every minute, it was becoming clearer and clearer to them that everything wasn't right. 

"I bet it was the butler," Greg smirked at Warrick who just rolled his eyes.

A death glare was shot from Grissom's behalf. "Could we be serious about this for a second, if you don't mind, Greg?"

The tired smile disappeared as he pulled on his serious face. It didn't seem that hard to do. "No problem, boss."

"What about his wife," Warrick continued. "She didn't seem too mournful."

"And that makes her guilty?" Greg cut in. "Things happen. No use crying about it."

He wasn't smiling. 

Nick and Sara glanced at each other. For a second, his harsh words caused an awkward silence into the room. "What?" he finally grunted, shifting on his chair. "I was just stating the obvious." They were all still staring at him, even Grissom. "Right, anyway," he bolted up from the chair, obviously getting uncomfortable with the situation. "Got some evidence to process. Excuse me."

As the door closed behind him, the others were left in an amazed stillness. Sara gave a knowing look to Nick. "What did I tell you?"

Grissom looked at the two of them with a frown. "So it isn't just me?" Everyone in the room turned to look at him. 

Catherine spoke out all of their thoughts. "What?"

"I thought that it was just me imagining things but... It just seems that lately Greg has been a bit..."

"...off," Warrick concluded. Grissom's eyes darted at him. "Why haven't you said anything?" he asked, his voice accusing.

Warrick's brows shot up. "Why haven't _you_ said anything? You just said that you've noticed it too."

"I --" Grissom's mouth open and closed again as he searched for an answer. "I... don't know. I guess I just assumed..." His voice trailed off. 

Sara glanced at the closed door. "I guess we all just assumed."

*** 

The sun was rising over the horizon as Sara pulled her jacket on in the locker room, grabbing her back before she spun around on her heals and exited through the door into the corridor. Her mind was filled with thoughts as paced through the corridor towards the front door. Thoughts about Greg. His behavior still bothered her. It hadn't eased her mind the least that everyone else seemed to think that something was wrong, too.

Her hand rose to rub on the bridge of her nose. The Friday had flowed by swiftly as she'd concentrated on work. But now, a weekend off was waiting for her. She had been trying to get alone with Greg all day, to talk to him, but something always came up. 

The sunlight grazed her face as she stepped outside. She took a second to enjoy its warmth before starting to walk towards her car.

She was just bending down to open the door when something caught her eye. She turned her head to the side, spotting a man walking a little further away. A smile curved her lips as she recognized him. "Greg!" she gave a shout. The man's head whirled around. "Hang on a sec!" She shoved the car keys back into her pocket and started to jog towards Greg who was standing beside his own car. He smiled at her as she reached him. "What is it, Sara?"

"Well..." Sara started, hesitant at first but then growing more certain. "Would you like to have a cup of coffee. Maybe some breakfast?"

His eye brows arched up. "Now? With you?"

His amazement made her smile. "Yeah," she nodded. "With me."

***

The diner was quiet at that hour between breakfast time and lunch. A couple of men were sitting by the counter and eating, an old woman was sitting in the corner booth reading a magazine, but otherwise the place was empty. Greg and Sara were sitting in the window booth with their coffees and foods in front of them on the table. A slow country song could be heard through the humming of the air conditioners.

Sara watched the younger man over the edge of her coffee cup. He was hunched over his plate, slowly poking on his eggs, once in awhile taking a bite. He wasn't looking at Sara but at the plate in front of him. Sara took a mouthful of coffee, letting it warm her from the inside for awhile before asking: "Aren't you hungry?"

Greg glanced up at her. Obviously he'd been lost in his thoughts. "Huh? -- Oh. No. Yes. Um... I mean, it's not that. I just..." As he spoke, his eyes wandered to the window. With a sigh he put the fork down and pushed the plate aside. "I guess not. Sorry."

She didn't know what he was apologizing for but she didn't say anything. For awhile they just sat there in silence, and she watched him as he just stared out of the window, leaning his chin against his clenched fist. There was something in his eyes then, something sad, that made Sara feel.... helpless. And curious. "So," she started, just to open the conversation. Maybe later on she could direct it to subjects she really wanted to talk about. "A free weekend ahead, huh?"

A small smile tucked on the side of his mouth. "Yeah, for once." He sounded somehow... relieved. 

"Yeah, me too." That was all she could think of to say. "Anything special planned?" she continued after awhile of thinking.

Then, she was sure of it, his expression changed. The small smile faded completely as he suddenly closed up completely. His body straightened up and his eyes lowered to look at the coffee cup in his hand. "No. Why?" 

She was taken aback by his sudden defensiveness. "Umm... No reason. I was just thinking." For a second there she'd thought that this might get somewhere, that they could have a nice conversation and she might finally find out was going on, but his sudden mood change told otherwise. He gulped the last remains of the coffee and started to stand up, glancing at his watch. "Look. I gotta go. There's somewhere I have to be." A smile flashed on his face as he gathered his things. "Thanks for the breakfast company, Sara. It was really nice." With that he turned around and started walking towards the door, leaving Sara to open and close her mouth like a goldfish, surprised. 

"Greg..." she finally managed to utter, but it was already too late, he was already out of the door and walking back towards his car. 

This things was starting to bother her more and more. 


	3. Men Should Weep

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A/N: The song is Skunk Anansie's _Brazen_. An amazing song, if you have the chance to hear it, don't pass it. 

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Within the Shelter of the Night: Men Should Weep

The city flew by her as Sara drove aimlessly through the night. She hadn't had the will power to just stay inside. She had to move. Driving around always helped her to clear her thoughts. She knew that with all these thought roaming around in her head, it would be impossible to get any sleep. Greg's behavior still bothered the hell out of her. 

She flipped the radio on just as the first chords of a song played out into the night. She kept her eyes on the road and the view, the lights flashing by, the street signs and the buildings, but she couldn't help listening as the female singer's raspy voice filled the musty air of her worn out VW. And as soon as the words were heard, she couldn't help letting her thoughts drift again...

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I called you brazen, called you whore right to your face

and watched you silently and publicly disgraced

I didn't notice when you strenghted like a vice

that you were trembling and burned beneath the ice

Why don't you weep when I hurt you

Why don't you weep when I cut you

You don't bleed and the anger

builds up inside

She blinked, her brains suddenly in full alert, receiving the words, soaking them in. All the thoughts, the realization, that those words brought up. Right there, instead of the flashing lights and the traffic, she saw in front of her the face of a man, his brown eyes staring at her sadly, defeated, just staring, and she heard his words echoing in her mind. "Things happen. No use crying about it." Suddenly, those words meant more to her than they had before.

You said a prayer and I betrayed you with a kiss

I never realized that all had come to this

On the other side of the state, in the city of Reno, Greg Sanders stepped out of the yellow cab. His feet pressed against the black asphalt as he pushed himself up from the backseat. The cab driver grunted from under his baseball hat, tucked deep to cover his eyes, as Greg paid the fare.

The night had crept over the city and its multicolored lights ages ago, and now, as the still vivid flow of traffic, of cars and of people, swept by him, Greg walked silently and lost in his own thoughts, his own fears, across the asphalt yard and through the glass double doors into the big, sterile, white concrete building. 

The doors swung voicelessly closed behind him. 

__

So keep your dignity, don't throw it all to waste

stronger feelings than you've ever learned to face

Sara didn't know in which point she'd made the turn out of her normal route, but there she was. In front of an apartment building far away from her own. She'd only been there once before in her lifetime. It was the apartment building where Greg lived. With a hesitating sigh she turned off the engine and got out of the car. Two minutes later she was at the front door, ringing the bell above the name 'Greg Sanders'. 

She rang for five minutes. No one answered.

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Why don't you weep when I hurt you

He walked down the white, well-lit corridors in an experienced manner, knowing the way through the puzzle by heart. He didn't stop on his path, not even to say more than a short hello to those whom he knew from previous visits. 

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Why don't you weep when I cut you

Sara backed away from the door, gazing up at the serene facade of the seven story building. Some of the windows were lit with yellow light, some of them were dark. She didn't know which one of them she should be looking at, all she knew was that it was in the fifth floor. In that floor there were lights in two windows. Others were black. 

He wasn't home. Subdued, she spun around on her heals, patting her way back to the car. As she crashed into the front seat, she couldn't shake the song out of her head. 

You don't bleed, and the anger

builds up inside

With one last glance at the windows of the fifth floor, she started the car and curved out of view. 

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Why don't you weep...

The hospital room was dimly illuminated as Greg walked in, holding a paper cup full of coffee in his hand and a newspaper in the other. The sun was shining brightly outside, still trying to cover the land in last beams of glow before going to sleep behind the horizon, and its light streamed slightly through the half-closed blinds. He didn't flick the light switch as he entered. He didn't because she'd said that the light hurt her eyes. Instead he just walked to the chair next to the hospital bed which he'd been occupying for three days now and sat down, placing the cup of coffee and the paper on the nightstand next to him. 

He reached out his hand to brush the stray hairs off of the pale face of the young woman lying in the hospital bed with her eyes closed. Her skin felt cold and clammy under his fingers.

As if her sleep had been erupted by his touch, her eyelids broke apart and she opened her eyes. When she saw him, a little smile curved her lips. "Still here?" Her voice was raspy and dry, thickened by the sleep. Or the sickness. It took him a lot of effort to return the smile. 

"Hey, sweetie. How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," she moaned a bit sarcastically, closing her eyes for a brief second again. Her tired words continued to flow, though; "That damn nurse refuses to give me more drugs. She should shove them up her..."

He chuckled. "I'll tell her that, shall I?"

She didn't answer, just gave a weary smile, trying to shrug off the last shreds of the sleep. He watched her as she slowly woke herself up. She was thin, thinner than the last time he'd seen her. It had taken him time to get through his head that this woman, this fragile little doll, was really her. She looked like made of glass, worn out, sucked dry. 

Her eyes fought open and she turned her face at him. "Did you have anything to eat today?" she whispered.

"Don't you dare worry about me, Chrissy."

"Well, just tell me that you did so that I can stop." Her logic made it impossible for him to fight against it, so he just sighed, leaning slightly forward so that he could lean against the edge of the bed with his arms before he answered:

"I did. I went to the cafeteria while you were sleeping."

"Yeah? What did you have?" She liked this. Conversations about normal, everyday things and events. She'd said it made her feel in touch with reality. He liked it too. Being able to just talk with her about everything and nothing.

"Some coffee. Not comparable to my fine Hawaiian but it went. And they had these hot meals, I took the chicken soup, it was the only thing that sounded eatable."

"Was it any good?" Like a child, asking all the questions.

"Yes, actually it was. Nothing like Mom's, you know, but it was okay."

Then, out of nowhere, the conversation changed, as naturally as if it was how it was supposed to go, "How are you doing?"

"We talk everyday, you know that I'm just fine."

"I meant right now. With this."

Greg was quiet for a long time. He weighed his thoughts, trying to put them in an order which she could understand. Line the words to be spoken out. Then he sighed. "I'm scared. I'm worried. Sad. I don't want to lose you, but I know I will. I love you very much, you know that?"

A smile. "Yes, I know. I love you too, big brother."

"I wish I could be here every day. Beside you."

"Next your going to say that you should've been here years ago, sitting by my bed. Since the day I got sick. Well, let me tell you something; That wouldn't have made the difference."

"I should be here for you. I should sit here and talk to you about meaningless things like chicken soup and the weather --"

"And then what? Worry and stay awake? Just as you do in Las Vegas?"

His eyes darted at hers. "How did you know that?"

"I heard it in your voice," she stated, her tone saying 'did you think you could hide it from me'. "When was the last time you slept?"

"I did sleep. Just... not that much."

As if reading his thoughts, she continued: "You called me everyday, Greg. Several times. You were here. Don't feel guilty about it. You were here. Right here. And you're here now. I know that you're here even when you're not. That's all that matters."

"Why won't you let me stay here with you? Why do you want me in Las Vegas instead of here?"

The answer came calmly, as if the simplest, clearest thing in the whole wide world; the truth. "Because you have to keep living. Stop worrying about the inevitable."

"I..."

"You what?"

"I can't help it."

"It's okay, Greg. We all die some day."

"Don't say that."

"Why not? It's true." He bowed his head under her soothing tone, taking her hand and pressing it against his cheek. But he didn't say anything. The words bored into their minds, hanging in the air between them, controlling their beings for some time before she finally opened her mouth again. "Tell me about the sun." Her voice was weak but it cut through the air like a knife, wrapping itself around his mind.

"It's..." he started, rubbing his thumb slowly across the palm of her hand. He could feel a hard knot forming in his stomach but he refused to acknowledge it, pushed it aside. This wasn't for him, this was for her. So he continued with a voice no louder than a sigh but still audible to her ears: "It's beautiful. The sun has been shining bright for the entire day, like the sweetest day in California. The trees are greener than usually, not a cloud in the sky. You'd love it out there. It's starting to set anytime now. Soon the sky will turn purple and red and all the colors of the world..."

So he kept talking to her, his voice eventually lulling her to sleep that numbed the pain for awhile. As her breathing steadied, got deeper, and she was finally asleep, he stopped whispering the words and just looked at her. Looked at her closed eyelids, the peaceful expression on her face and the steady rising of her chest. He sat like that for a long time, with his hands closed around her skinny one, just watching her sleep. He didn't cry. Just watched her in the darkness. 

That night she died.

THE END


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